The Heart of Hogwarts
by luvscharlie
Summary: Hagrid contemplates what it means to be loyal to Albus Dumbledore


_The Heart of Hogwarts_ by Luvscharlie

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Warnings: None, Takes place in Harry's sixth year

_A/N: Originally written for Week 21 at the fandom_fridays community on Live Journal where our prompt was "My smile is just skin deep."—The Joker, Batman 1989._

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I'm not one to complain about my lot in life. It could be so much worse. Half-giant, expelled from school for being accused of murder (sort of), a Hufflepuff even (well, there are shames and then there are shames, you know), and it could have gone so badly for me… would have gone badly were it not for Albus Dumbledore.

Great man, Albus Dumbledore.

He couldn't stop the expulsion, couldn't keep them from snapping my wand in to pieces, but he did all he could for me. Even gave me my trusty umbrella. Want to know how hard it is to find an umbrella that will keep the rain off a man my size? Well, Dumbledore, can do things most wizards can't. Apparently, he's a hell of an umbrella shopper on top of it all.

And well, I do my best not question him, ever. After all, he saved me when most would have never given me another look. Dead students at Hogwarts is frowned upon, you know, and while I didn't do it—there was no proof. But Dumbledore, he believed in me. He kept me on here at Hogwarts, gave me a position of, if not prestige, at least it's respectful. Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. I think it has a rather nice ring to it.

My job here is important. Of course, sometimes I lose the keys which I'm supposed to keep (thankfully, Dumbledore always seems to know where to find them and the grounds are a little easier to keep up with), but I love the creatures that are under my charge. And I'm good with them too. Always was better with creatures than people. Creatures accept you for who you are, no pretenses; people aren't nearly so forgiving.

And then there are the students. Love the little buggers, I do. Even the rotten ones.

But times are changing; _things_ are changing. He Who Shall Not Be Named is back and I fear that all these students are in the gravest of danger. Perhaps even Hogwarts won't offer them any safety before long. It's like it was before, and I remember how many of them we lost then. So many young lives with such potential cut short, stamped out.

How many orphans will this new war leave behind? Will there even be a Hogwarts left standing to educate future generations of wizards and witches or will our kind just die out? Under His horrible rule, it certainly won't prosper. Honestly, I can't even stand to think of what it would be like if he _did_ win this time.

And it makes me physically ill to think of what all of this might mean for Harry. We all know the day is coming when Harry will stand against Him. But Harry's just a boy. Only a wee lad. Not even one of the more muscular boys in his year. A right scrawny little thing if I'm being honest. However, will a mere child—well, I can't even think of it. It scares me too much. Sure, he did it once. But he doesn't even know how he did. And I'm just not sure luck will hold out for him in the end.

Our only saving grace is Dumbledore. He's the only thing that gives us—the members of the Order—the hope and drive to push on in what sometimes seems hopeless times. But today, when I saw him his hand was black. I tried to ask him what was wrong, but he just smiled that knowing smile of his and said, "Nothing to trouble your self with, Hagrid."

Pish, I say. I am troubled. Troubled a lot. But I plastered a smile on my face, because I knew that's what he wanted. That hand—something about it—it's just not right. And I'm worried. I can't even imagine a world with no Dumbledore—I get misty-eyed even thinking of such a horrible thing.

The students will be back soon, back to start another year, and I'll be ready to take up my post. Every year, on September first he always says the same thing to me: "Greet them with a smile, Hagrid." And I always laugh and smile and say, "Yes, sir." And it's never hard to do because I'm always so glad to see the students come back. See how they've grown, how they've changed, how many of them have gotten whiskers or boobies over the summer. They're always so proud of those first signs that they're growing up. Little do they know, growing up is seriously overrated. There's an unkind world out there and they're so eager to make their way out into it; to become who they're going to become. I wish I could keep them youngsters forever. They're safe here at school. Hogwarts comes alive when they're around. The holidays are always a bit lonely, so September first is usually a day I look forward to all summer long.

But this year, my smile is just skin deep. I'm only smiling because Dumbledore asked me to, just as he always does. And I owe Albus Dumbledore so much. So I'll put a smile on my face when I meet the train at Hogsmeade Station, and I'll bring first years across the lake in the boats that will give them their first look at this amazing school (best wizarding school in the world and I dare someone to say otherwise), because he wants me to, and he trusts me, and there's nothing I could ever refuse him.

A storm is coming. We can all feel it. And the look of that blackened hand makes me wonder if my hero will be left standing when the wind dies down and last storm cloud is pushed away.


End file.
